Fragments
by JessicaJ
Summary: Part III: Waking. Her music speaks to him, and he listens for the first time in a long while... Just some drabble I've had on my computer for awhile, and never put flesh to the bones. It seemed to belong here, in this little compilation of fragments.
1. Chapter 1

'_Fragments'_ sound nicer than '_bits and pieces'_. It has connotations; it's a word that holds promise.

This is an experiment, where I am offered a prompt for a pairing, and I produce… well, _this_.

**Part 1: Tseng x Aeris** _He tries to take her from the garden, this time determined she won't outsmart him… but she's smarter than she looks._

-0-

He was so used to coming here. Used to the stares as he walked past the dreary-faced residents of the slums. Used to the respect and the fear that came with the blue suit. Used to being able to get what he wanted.

Yet he couldn't seem to get used to how weird this one _particular _ place felt, amidst the filth of the Midgar Underworld.

Flowers- the whole house was surrounded by them. Yellow and white, pink and blue; you name it. It was never hard to find _her_ either. She never went far from them.

Today, as he had predicted, she was on her knees in the dirt, humming to herself as she worked.

"What are you doing?" He asked curtly, hands in pockets. Flowers just _grew _ didn't they? What was it she was doing, every damn time he saw her?

"Hello to you too," She answers brightly, squinting up at him from her squat in the borders. "What does it look like I am doing?"

"Why else would I have asked?"

"Polite conversation?" She suggested sweetly, getting to her feet and brushing herself down. "I take it you are here to bring me in."

"That is correct."

"Hm. Alone?" She peers around him. Usually the Turks were to be found in pairs.

"What—you think I can't bring in a sixteen year old girl by myself?"

She giggles, cheeks dimpling prettily. "Oh, Mr Tseng, I don't doubt it for a second. But I'm not really in the mood today, I'm afraid. I am making great progress with my flowers." She looks back over her shoulder, giving him ample time to note that she has a smudge of dirt on one otherwise flawless cheek.

"Ms Gainsborough, your co-operation is mandatory, and I must insist that—"

Her fingertip is smooth and cool against his lips, green eyes dancing with light and mirth and innocence. Everything that she is. And everything he is not.

"Tseng. Not. Today…" She draws closer to him, and in one dizzying second everything has spiralled out of control. Hell, he was too old to be messing around with women, let alone a sixteen year old girl… who just so happened to be the last surviving Ancient…

Her kiss is dizzying though, and her body so small against his rigid form. She would fit perfectly in his arms, if he even dared…

"Maybe some other time." Then her knee is somewhere it shouldn't be, and he can see stars.

He had underestimated her, again.

-0-

_I can't recall who gave me this prompt, so I apologise to them for losing the message. To any new readers- leave a review with a pairing and any idea that pops into your head, and I'll write something. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 2: Yuffie x Vincent** _ He couldn't help but admire her. _

-0-

She wouldn't understand. Even if he tried to explain, she would never understand.

Her antics frustrated and often even infuriated her comrades, or whatever they were to her. But he couldn't help but admire her—someone so unashamedly… herself; A two-bit thief, a daughter of a crumbling Empire, struggling to survive in a rapidly evolving world. In that sense, he could relate. She was selfish, short-sighted and cursed like a trooper; a defensive mask, to skirt around the fact that she was barely a woman. Yet here she was, tagging along with eco-terrorists, A few of ShinRa's failed experiments and a giant Moogle.

She knew what she wanted, and she took it; materia, that extra sleeping bag, not to mention a couple of Cid's cigarettes, much to the Pilot's confusion. She also had the balls (to quote that same pilot) to make the first move—Cloud never saw it coming, when he agreed to go on that stupid sky ride with her in the Gold Saucer.

She is stubborn, obstinate, foolish and young; all the things he isn't.

He couldn't help but admire her.

-0-

_A prompt I created myself, but I don't think I could ever write a full on Yuffentine—they just don't match up in my head. _

_If you want a chapter writing for you, made to order, simply give me a pairing, and a short prompt, no matter how cryptic. I will see what I can come up with._


	3. Chapter 3

**Fragments**

**Part III: Waking**

**Tifa x Vincent**

Music. He could hear music. It entered his dreams, and he knew that somehow, it had nothing to do with his imagination. He could recognise the vibrations of the old grande, in the main hall of the mansion, even two stories above him, separated by thick stone walls. He'd heard it played before, but he knew that the pianist in his memories had long been dead.

Instead, a mystery person was playing a beautiful, haunting song, almost a dirge. It was uplifting as well as being mournful, and he felt his heart swell a little in his chest as he awoke, his nightmares having given up on him for now.

Over the sounds of the ivory and ebony keys, he heard footsteps belonging to several pairs of feet, and soon enough, the door to his cell opened. The first time he had seem light in… how long? He didn't know. All that he knew was that he had come here to hide away from himself, horrified at what he had become. He didn't care that his bed was a tank of Hojo's creation, of which time held no sway over. It could have been days, weeks, months…

And he barely felt the energy to raise his eyebrow when he discovered it had been three decades; three whole decades of nothing. And still his loss felt as poignant as it did the moment he stepped inside, resolute in the need for his confinement. Time always behaved curiously.

"Wait. I will come with you. I am Vincent Valentine, Ex- Turk." His voice seemed different from years of misuse; or perhaps he had simply forgotten what it sounded like. Deeper, softer, and, he realised, edged with pain. He would have to monitor it closely. He did not want to give too much away.

"Perhaps I could be of assistance to you," He added. And he was curious as to the source of that beautiful insistent music, though none of the others seemed to give any indication that they were hearing the same thing.

He chose to be silent, and once out of the basement, he drifted down the stair case and entered into the grande hall, aware that the music became louder as he approached. His fingers twitched at his side-arm. He'd heard of monsters in the form of intelligent creatures, and knew better than to enter a room blind.

A young woman sat at the piano, ankles crossed beneath the rickety piano stool, her fingers drifting across the keys gracefully. Her shoulders seemed heavy with emotion, and he was positive she had tears glistening at her cheeks.

"You found him." She stopped playing, her fingers still poised, turning her face only slightly to address the man stood behind him, who had introduced himself as Cloud.

How were they looking for him? How could they know of his self-inflicted enshrinement?

The young woman stood gracefully, her movements slow and deliberate, her long braid of hair that had been pulled to one side slid like a sheet of silk over her shoulders. He watched her with a guarded expression as she turned to face him, her eyes widening a little as she took in his face, his clothes.

"He used to be in ShinRa." Cloud said from behind, as she considered him thoughtfully for a moment.

"Tifa Lockheart." She said softly, not offering her hand, instead, a strained smile. "And how long ago were you in ShinRa?"

"Thirty years. Or so I hear." He replied, voice level and controlled. She raised a perfectly shaped brow.

"You've been here all that time? You survived the fire?" She winced a little, as though recalling a painful memory. "The whole town perished in the fire. Except this place…"

She glanced around her then, her ivory skin dancing with the different colours scattered in the stained glass of the windows. Trailing her fingers along the piano's top, she observed the peeling wallpaper, the dusty chandeliers, and the broken furniture.

"Perhaps it should have burned." He said with bitterness, staring down at the threadbare flooring.

"Do not say such things. Death will come to us all when it is our time." She shared a saddened glance with Cloud.

"I apologise."

"Don't." She offered him a weak smile, though even _she_ realised its lack of effort, and gave up, seating herself at the piano again. Behind him, he heard Cloud and the others leave, muttering something about waiting outside until they were ready. He remained in his position by the door, watching her tuck her hair behind her ears and trace her finger along the filthy keys.

"You play beautifully." He whispered, taking a few silent steps closer. She gave a small laugh; a rush of air through her nose.

"I haven't touched a piano in years. I bet it sounded dreadful."

"You woke me."

"Is that bad?"

"No. You… saved me from a nightmare."

"Then… I guess that's good?"

"Believe me." A flash of understanding passed between them, as she gazed up at him from her seat.

"I suppose we should go. They'll be wondering where we've got to. Forgive Cloud for obsessively worrying. We have… recently lost one of our friends."

Not knowing what to say, feeling that condolences were a little too impromptu after knowing her only for such a short time, he offered her his hand to aid her to her feet. It was then, looking at what was his hand, he remembered. No longer so human. He winced at the notion, and then offered her his right hand- his human hand.

She showed no aversion to it however; she gazed at it wonderingly for a moment, before slipping her slender fingers into his waiting palm.

-0-

_Authors note: This was a chunk of substance; something that I had hoped would grow into something else. Eventually after a few years it may be become incorporated into my tales somewhere, but I wanted to share this fragment as it is. _

_May it now rest._

_JJ_


End file.
